


Five More Mintues

by Vanya



Category: Sherlock (TV), Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, Growing Romance, Horror, M/M, Supernatural Elements, Survival, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-19 06:11:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/880354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanya/pseuds/Vanya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John try to survive the end of the world as they know it. Separated from their group, their main focus is to survive and try to get as far North as they can. Unfortunate circumstances follow. Will this world be too much for them to survive?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue | Assessing the Situation

****

**Prologue | Assessing the Situation**

_Jan. 3 rd_

_I don’t exactly know how this all started. Why it headed the way it did. Sherlock said something about a virus. We started out with a fairly large group. Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, Molly, Anderson, Sally, Mycroft and then Sherlock and myself. Now it’s just down to us two._

_We got separated from Lestrade and Mycroft, we assume they’re holding up somewhere. Greg knows what he’s doing._

_Molly got caught on the run, we had to leave her._

_Sally and Anderson wandered off. We don’t know if it was just because they were afraid or if they had given up, but later when we were driving we saw them on the road. Both were turned. Sherlock put them down._

_God, I hate saying it like that but that’s what we have to do. Shoot them in the head like rabid dogs._

_We were safe for a while, found a house to hold up in. Then the horde came through. They ripped Martha from my hands. I couldn’t get to her in time. Sherlock had to pull me away from our dear Mrs. Hudson._

_Now we’re on our own._

_Days are long. It’s cold, roads are covered with the walkers. That’s what we decided to call them. We’ve heard some people call them geeks, biters, but we prefer walkers. I’m not sure why._

_We heard that going north was safer. Colder weather, it’s harder for everyone to survive. We’re trying to head for Aberdeen. Edinburgh was a lost cause. And London…_

_Oh._

_London is bad. Anyone we meet that is friendly we warn to stay away from the large cities._

_Edinburgh, Glasgow, London, Dundee._

_There’s nothing there but the walking dead._

_We stay to back roads, keep the windows up when we have to sleep in the car. Sherlock made some sort of… Mmm…what is it?  Repellant? Yeah, that’s what it is. Well it certainly works. The dead stay away from the car and it saves up from having to sleep out in the open. Thank god it’s a van so we can hold all our petrol, food and supplies. Sherlock is surprisingly good at knowing how to survive. I’ve taught him a few things I remember from my army days. It pays off. I’m pretty sure we’ll survive because of that, even if I still have nightmares._

_We learned that guns, though convenient attract too much attention.  Loud noises draw them in. We found a couple good machetes but I still have my pistol. Just in case we need it._

_As far as people, we know France was the last to hold out. There WHO was running on mostly solar power. Some of the places in Scotland are running on hydro. Sherlock refuses to let people come with us. He tends to avoid them. He doesn’t trust anyone, not that I really blame him. Drastic times make people crazy. He just wants to make sure we stay safe._

_We’re…_

_Pretty much together, but we’re all each other have._

_We’re kinda holding out hope we can find Greg and Mycroft, I don’t know those. It’s been almost a year._

_I think that’s everything I know at the moment._

_It’s late, I’m writing this with a torch. I really should turn it off before Sherlock wakes up and yells at me to turn it off._

_Until later._

-      _Dr. John Hamish Watson_


	2. Chapter I | When Things Start to Go Awry

**Chapter I | When Things Start to Go Awry**

Light.

Sherlock started to shift in the van, trying his hardest not to wake John but it was hard when he was so tall and the ceiling was not.  Just about every morning it was the same thing. He would try to get up without waking John, only to bash his head on the ceiling making him groan and rub his head. “God damn… fucking…” Grumbles coming from the brunette rubbing his head and moving to the front of the van, made John open his eyes and chuckle a little. “Hit your head again Sher?” He asked as he slowly pulled himself up with a soft groan. “Fuck.” Sherlock smirked and pulled his sweater on as he looked at John. “That’s what you get for laughing at me John.” The blond scoffed at him and sat up grabbing his own sweater. “Pfft whatever, I’m just old.” Sherlock let out a warm laugh. The sound filled the van and make John smile. When he laughed it made everything seem a little more normal. It was funny how something so small as a smile or a laugh from him could change the whole atmosphere around them.

_A little normalcy never hurts._

“Pfft, you weren’t supposed to agree with me jerk.” He teased as he raised his hands for Sherlock to pull him up from the ground. The brunette reached out and grabbed both his hands and pulled him up from the floor, a little harder than he needed too. John let out a pained noise and pulled his hands away to press against his shoulder. The other man frowned and lightly gripped him to keep him standing.

John’s shoulder had already been damaged from being shot years before, of course that made it weaker and more apt to be easily injured. On their last fuel run, walkers were coming in on them and John tried to grab both containers of petrol and run. He managed to get to the cans back to the van and they got away in time, but Sherlock was fairly certain that John had torn one of the already weak muscles.

“John that shoulder is not okay. You need medication and a sling.” The stubborn blond doctor shook his head no. “I don’t need a sling, and our medication is for emergencies.” He muttered pulling away from the brunette, rubbing his hand over the sore shoulder. “No, you need a good night sleep in an actual bed, a sling and medication. You know what will happen if you don’t treat it now?” John sighed and nodded. Of course he knew, he was a doctor after all. “It’ll lock up and I won’t be able to use it, I know, I know.” Sherlock smiled moving a hand to touch his cheek, making John look at him. “Then stop arguing with me and do it.” He sighed and nodded giving in to him. The spot affection was what really made him give in. He liked it.

Again, that sense of normalcy.

It was comforting.

Before Sherlock would have not understood why John liked it. Sentiment. But now he needed it too. These little pieces of affection and normalcy. John sat down in the passenger seat, looking out the window as Sherlock grabbed what the blond needed. The brunette came back, handing John the pills and a bottle of water. He tossed the pills in his mouth and had Sherlock help him open the bottle. He took a long drink of the water, swallowing the pain pills as the detective worked on the sling made out of his scarf. “We need to get moving. There’s a lot more of them out here then when we parked last night.” Making sure his arm was secure in the make-shift sling before sitting up and looking around. There were a lot more. “Must be a herd heading south.” He pulled the keys out of his pocket and placed them in the ignition. “John, why don’t you sleep in the back while I drive for a while. I only woke up because of the sun.” The blond didn’t need to be told twice. He stood from his seat and went to lay on the mattress as Sherlock started their van.

~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~  ~ .:. ~ .:. ~~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~  ~ .:. ~ .:. ~~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~

The road was quiet. Sherlock had been driving a few hours now, his stomach was starting to growl as he looked out the window. They needed to stop and eat soon. The brunette always made sure they were hidden before he stopped. He would have to mark the car with the repellent again so that way they would be okay to just sit for a little while. Pulling off a dirt road the dark haired man parked the van under some foliage. He sighed and leaned forward to look out the window. It was dark even thought it was the middle of the day. Nasty storm was starting to roll into the over them. He frowned a little. He didn’t know how a thunder storm would make the walkers act. It would wash away his repellent if he put any on the car. Sherlock was so lost in his head that he didn’t even hear John get up and walk over to him. When his hand touched his shoulder, Sherlock jerk and slammed his elbow against the horn of the car.

**_BEEEEEEPPPPPPPPPPP!_ **

Quickly jerking away from it, he growled and cursed a little. “Fuck, John! Don’t sneak up on me like that!” He hissed and turned on the car again as the walkers started to wander in from the horn going off. Rain started to patter against the van. “I’m sorry Sherlock… I didn’t think I was going to startle you that much.” He said with a soft frown as the brunette looked at him. “Just shut up and sit down. We have to get out of here.”  John felt a twinge of pain from the harsh words. Sherlock didn’t usually snap at him. Besides it was an accident. He didn’t mean for it to happen. “Sherlock… I didn’t mean--…” He was cut off by the car talking off causing him to fall into his seat with a yelp, holding his arm. “Shut up and buckle your belt John!” He yelled as John heard banging and snarling against the van. Quickly the blond fumbled with his free hand to buckle the belt. He was starting to panic. He didn’t like getting this close to the walkers. After being able to avoid them for so long, John had gotten use to the constant comfort that the repellent brought them, and now suddenly the creatures were slamming at the car trying to get at them as they drove through the storm to get away. The brunette reached over from the steering wheel and took the belt and shoved it into the buckle. He didn’t say anything as the lightening crashed and thunder boomed over them. John felt like he was going to have an anxiety attack he was so scared. “Sherlock… slow down. We’re going… Sherlock.” He mumbled his name and panted looking over at the detective as he kept his foot hard on the pedal. “Sherlock stop please!” Whatever daze he had been in, Sherlock snapped out of it and slammed on the breaks. He panted and took a moment to calm down before he looked over at John who was still holding his arm. “John, oh Christ I’m sorry. Are you okay?” He asked the nervous looking blond. He reached his hand over to him and shakily the blond pulled his hand away and laid it in Sherlock’s. He pulled himself out of the driver seat after putting the break on and yanked John into his arms. “I’m sorry. It’s okay now, we’re safe. Calm down.” He said softly and he pressed the quivering doctor to his chest. This was horrible for John. Worse than war. So much worse than war, but every time something happened it brought the memories of war back to him. Seeing people he loved ripped from his hand and killed. “You’re okay John, just breath.” He said soothing the blond hair. Very slowly his labored breathing calmed and he pulled back. “I’m fine… I’m fine.” He said looking up and smiling a little. Sherlock let a small smile come to his face before it faded. His green eyes were staring out the window. Very slowly the blond turned and his breath hitched in his chest. “S-Sher…” He mumbled at the snarling horde was coming towards they’re running vehicle. He looked when the brunette pulled away and got into the driver’s seat again and took off like a bat out of hell. “Hold on tight John.” The blond nodded and closed his eyes tightly as Sherlock drove as fast as he could. He whimpered a little as they got farther and farther away. “Sherlock… you can stop now… I don’t see them anymore.” John looked over at him as the brunette started to press on the breaks but the van squealed and slide on the slick road. It was almost ice now. John realized in that moment they were going to crash. Sherlock looked over at the blond as he tried to correct the car.

“John…”

His eyes went wide when he realized that Sherlock was not wearing his belt, but he didn’t even get time to call out his name as the van hit the gravel and flipped, tumbling over and over on the pavement, making horrible noises. Metal screaming against the tar until finally the car stopped. John saw red through his eyes. He was upside down. “S-Sher--…” He panted as he looked over to try and see the brunette, but he wasn’t there. Turning his blue eyes he tried to locate him. He was laying on what should have been the top of the vehicle, face down. He was covered in glass and blood.

_Sherlock._

Darkness.


	3. Chapter II |  Following the Thunder

**Chapter II | Following the Thunder**

Rumbling in the west as the storm started to roll towards them. John didn’t know how long he had been unconscious but it had been for a while since most of his body was numb by now. He had to get himself to move though. Opening his blue eyes he looked down at Sherlock who was still in the same position. “Shit… Sherlock? Are you alright?” He called to him, hoping to god he wasn’t dead. The blond shook his head.

_He’s not dead. If he was, you’d be too._

It didn’t take long for them to change after they died. From what John could see the sky was darker than earlier and not just from the impending storm that was looming over them. John didn’t like the thunder. It made him really nervous. He really didn’t know how the walkers were going to react to it. That’s what Sherlock had been trying to figure out when John scared him, making him hit the horn. He sighed a little at the thought. This whole mess was his fault.

But John could make it better.

Maybe.

Very slowly John moved his numb arms up over his head towards the belt. He took a deep breath knowing it was going to hurt when he fell down into the glass below. “Okay John, gotta do this... one, two, three.” Pressing the button for the belt, John was released from his seat and thudded to the ground with a pained yelp. Glass embedded its way into this bruised and bloodied body. He took a few deep breaths before moving himself towards Sherlock. His fingers pressed against the pulse to see if it was there.

_Please… please._

It took a moment but he finally found it although it was really weak. He needed to get them both out of this car and somewhere safe before the storm rolled in. “Come on Sher…” He muttered as he slowly pushed against Sherlock’s shoulder, unable to move him with one arm. He was dead weight and his left arm was pretty much useless to him. Besides his arm, John was fairly certain nothing on himself was broken. Thanks to Sherlock screaming at him to get his belt on.

_Oh why don’t you take your own advice you dafty!_

Taking a deep breath he gently pushed the brunette onto his side to looking him over. Green eyes were closed and his face was bloodied. John moved his hand to gently press against his throat looking for a pulse even if it was a weak one. At least it was there.  He sighed and looked around again. Where did all their clothes go? He needed to make bandages. The storm rumbled above them as John scrambled through the wrecked van for the clothes, maybe a medical kit. The blond found a duffle bag and loaded it with bottles of water, some canned foods, the ammo for his pistol. Machetes were in sheathes so he would be able to carry them on his hip. Rain started to patter against the metal. He wasn’t looking forward to walking out there in the rain, but they couldn’t stay in here. It wasn’t safe with all the window’s busted out and the small of blood. They were lambs for the slaughter if they stayed. Gently tending to the brunette’s wounds, John gently patted his face until his hazy eyes opened. “J-John.” He rasped out, the doctor felt a rush of relief move over his being. He was so glad that he woke up. “Hey… we have to get out of here. Do you think you can get up?” He asked shifting a little as the brunette started to pull himself up into a sitting position. His head throbbed and stung. “Ahh… maybe. Is it storming yet?” He asked gently reaching out to grip John’s wrists to keep himself in that position. Maybe if he sat like this just for a little while he would be able to will the pain away and make himself move.

_Come on Sherlock. You’ve been through worse._

John sat quietly and waited for Sherlock to get his bearing. The rain was falling harder on the car and thunder and lightning crashing all around them. He figured that answered his question. The brunette looked up and frowned a little. “I think I can walk, but I don’t know how well. We’re gonna have to try and be fast. John.” He looked at him as the blond moved away to work on getting the side door open as far as he could. “I swear to god, if you tell me to leave you, I’m going to kick your ass Sherlock.” He snapped a little at him as he yanked open the door, leaning against it and holding his arm. The detective frowned and moved to hand, grabbing the bag and machete. “I think I’m just mostly bloodied. Don’t feel like any things broken.” John nodded and pulled himself out of the topple van and waited for Sherlock to follow him. “Can you carry that bag?” He asked a little worried about him having to lift heavy things in case he was more injured then he thought he was. Sherlock was good at working with injuries. When this all first started, he broke his foot when they were running and went three days until he finally said something to John. But being a doctor, John didn’t like that. He watched as the brunette pulled himself out of the car hoisting the bag around his shoulders. “I got it.” He said softly, making a face as the strap pressed against his sternum.

_Okay._

_Maybe one broken bone._

_That’s from hitting the steering wheel._

More thunder rumbled in the sky as both men stood to make sure the other was okay on their feet. After a moment to make sure they could stand, John grabbed Sherlock’s hand and they ran. The brunette had to limp as he ran, holding John’s hand and the machete in the other. There really weren’t a lot of walkers around. Well not yet at least. It was still pouring, drenching them to the bone. “S-Sherlock, what do you think the walkers will do because of the thunder? They’re attracted to loud noises aren’t they?” John panted as he held onto Sherlock. It took a moment but the brunette finally started to speak. “Th-They’ll probably follow it, horde like they were starting too. They’re like animals. Dogs getting riled when they feel the electricity in the air. W-We just have to get somewhere safe until it passes.” He said stopping to catch his breath.

_Broken ribs._

_Hard to breath._

_There’s gotta be somewhere._

“Sherlock look.” John pointed towards the very small town they were coming up on. “Let’s go, be quick about it and alert.” He warned. Sherlock didn’t like towns, there always seemed to be more walkers in and around them.

Again holding each other’s hands the men ran. As fast as they could, although John could obviously tell Sherlock was in pain. But they were so close. Getting into the town, they started checking doors. “Damn it, they’re all fucking locked!” John yelled starting to feel panic rise in him. He let his soldier mentality take over so he could remain calm. “Sherlock, can you pick the lock why I keep watch?” He asked looking to the other who nodded and leaned down, pulling a hair pin from his pocket. The thunder was getting louder and it seemed to be taking forever. John could hear the sounds of snarling walkers coming up on them. John pulled the machete from it’s sheath and back closer to Sherlock. “Hurry the bloody hell up.” He muttered as the other man worked in silence. The blond could see the horde starting to emerge in the streets, some coming around the corners and running towards them. Raising the machete John slammed it down into one of the zombie’s heads. He brought his foot up and kicked it off the weapon before slicing another one. “Sherlock!!”

_Click._

The brunette stood and grabbed the back of the back of John’s shirt, yanking on it hard to pull him into the building as the walkers started to charge. Both men slammed they’re backs against it and it clicked shut. John reached down with a shaking hand and locked it again. He was panting fairly heavily and Sherlock was starting to get dizzy. “John… lets go upstairs… see if there’s a bed or something.” John nodded and took his hand, holding the machete up in case there was something, or someone, still in there.

Sherlock could feel John’s heart beating as he held his hand and walked up the stairs. Sometimes he swore people were more dangerous than the fucking walkers were. John stopped in front of the door at the top of the stairs and took his hand from Sherlock’s. He took a deep breath and counted to three in his head before turning the knob and opening the door.

Just a bedroom.

They were safe for now.

John walked in and looked around making sure it was safe before ushering Sherlock in with him. The doctor shut the door and locked it, with Sherlock’s help they shoved a very heavy wardrobe in front of it. The detective put the bag down and hobbled to the window. It always felt safer to be up higher. The thunder rumbled outside and the rain pelted against the window, making small ticking noises as it did. Pale green eyes watched as the horde came into town with the noise of the storm.

They were safe for now.

Safe.

But trapped.


	4. Chapter III | If I Change

**Chapter III | If I Change**

They were able to stay in the apartment until their food ran out. It lasted about a week. But then again, John wasn’t able to grab that much. The storm had brought hundreds of walkers through the town. Some of the late ones were still wandering around outside. John’s shoulder was doing better after a week of resting it. He probably should have kept it in a sling. If this was a normal situation John would have been stuck in a sling for at least a month. At least.

But this wasn’t a normal situation.

Nope, he couldn’t afford an injury like that long. It wasn’t safe, this was survival of the fittest, if you weren’t fit you didn’t survive. John wanted him and Sherlock to survive no matter what. He couldn’t stand the thought of dying and turning into one of those things.

Slowly moving out of the apartment, Sherlock went first. He insisted on going first because John’s arm was still not a hundred percent and he was not going to risk him if he couldn’t move fast enough with it. Once he made sure it was safe he waved John out of the building. They walked slowly keeping a watch for one another as they moved through the streets that were still crowed with the walking dead. Sherlock was trying doors as John kept watch for him. Not many of them were open and most of the ones that were had nothing they could really use. People had gone through and looted this down.

They got out without much trouble. One or two machetes to the head and they were find. Now, they were walking quietly down the road. Trying to stay out of the way of traffic and walkers. They would have to find some place to camp soon. Both were making good pace today. The rest had done them well. Soon the sun was setting and they needed somewhere to stay for the night. It was getting dark and fast. John gripped Sherlock’s hand tightly, the more the sun went down, the more his heart started to race. It was easy for the brunette to tell. He felt like John was going to break his hand he was squeezing it so tightly. “Love?” The word caught him off guard a little, the blond looked over at Sherlock who had spoken the word of endearment towards him. He’d never been called that by the detective. It had made him wonder at times if they were really together. They had agreed on it, but there was never anything besides sleeping in the same bed and holding hands. “Ahh…yes?” He asked with a slight stutter to his voice, which only gained a squeeze to his hand. “We’ll be okay. If I have to I’ll get us in a tree to spend the night.” John smiled over at him.

_He’s reassuring me._

“Thank Sher. I know we’ll find somewhere.” He said leaning over to kiss his cheek. The other man nodded and turned his head straight again, looking away again. He was scouting for some place to stay. Suddenly there was a jerk on John’s hand, pulling him into the woods. Sherlock pressed him into a tree and covered his mouth, making a ‘shh’ motion with his finger. Blue eyes turned to look where he was starting.

_A horde._

John swallowed hard and closed his eyes, letting Sherlock keep an eye on the movement as he counted in his head. He had to calm down. It wasn’t good to be as terrified as he was. But war wasn’t as scary as this was. He would have went back to war any day to get out of this. He hated the fear, that stepping outside meant. Even to sleep. He never felt safe. Not like he had before. It was more comforting with the van, but now the van was gone. Sherlock’s repellent was gone. They had nothing but their machetes to protect themselves.

And John’s gun.

_One, two, three, four, five._

_John you’re fine._

_Sherlock’s here._

_Six, seven, eight, nine, ten._

“John.”

He opened his eyes and looked up at the pale green ones in front of him. “There’s a little cottage over to our left. We have to run fast to get there. Can you do it?” His voice was so soft. But he was whispering to avoid the herd that was to the right of them. John nodded yes to him, turning his head to look and see the cottage. They were closer than he thought. “On the count of three, run and stay quiet.” He whispered and tensed.

“One.”

_One._

“Two.”

_Two._

“Take my hand love. Whatever you do, don’t let go. Got it?” The blond nodded again, gripping his weapon in one hand and Sherlock’s hand in the other.

“Three.”

_Run._

_Run John._

_Hold tight._

_Don’t let him go._

He didn’t let go. John gripped Sherlock’s hand as tightly as he could as they ran. Swinging the machete at any walker that got close to them. It was easy to take off heads. The blond really didn’t care if it stayed alive after that. These weren’t people. These were creatures that were trying to kill them. Eat them. Rip them apart as they fought for life.

John and Sherlock slammed into the cottage door and quickly opened it, shoving their backs against it and locking it once again. The doctor was panting heavily, trying to get his air as he looked over at Sherlock, who bent down and pressed his lips against his firmly. John dropped his knife and wrapped his arms around the brunette’s neck and held him there kissing him back.

_I don’t know how it led to that._

_I don’t know why._

_Personally, I don’t really care how._

_I enjoyed what happened._

Panting softly, John snuggled into the blanket and leaned against Sherlock’s bare chest. He felt better. A _hell_ of a lot better. It was just what they had needed.

The two men were barricaded in a room in the second floor, laying naked on the bed, under the blankets. Just content to be with one another, even though it had been a few hours since they had actually had sex.

“John, can I ask you a question?”

The blond looked up and gave him a tired nod. “Yeah, course you can.” He replied and moved to sit up a little bit so they were in a better position to have a conversation. Sherlock looked down at his hands and then moved to sit up as well, looking at him. “If you would ever be turned, what would you want me to do?” John was caught a little off guard by the question, but it was a good one to have an answer to, just in case it did ever happen. He took Sherlock’s hand in his own and moved his fingers over the smooth skin. “Put me down before I change. I don’t ever want to be one of those things.” He said in a soft voice as he moved his eyes to look up at the pale green one, locking there. “How about you? What would you want me to do?”

Sherlock seemed to be quiet for a long time, like he was seriously contemplating what he wanted to say. And why shouldn’t he it was a big decision. If you got bit or you died, scratched to their blood mixed with your’s. You were pretty much dead. The blond just waited quietly, play with his fingers. “If I’m bit, give me your gun and I’ll do it myself. I won’t make you do that.” He finally replied looking up at the blond, taking his hand away to stroke over his bruised shoulder softly looking at the scar as he did. “If I change, just put a bullet in my head. I never want to hurt you John. I care about you, and I always have. I think I always will.” His hand moved and cupped John’s chin, pulling him close to kiss him again, pulling the blond down to lay with him. “Can you do that for me John?” He asked gently petting the blond hair and waiting for a reply. It didn’t take long for John to nod. “Will you do it for me?” He asked looking up at Sherlock. Green eyes were soft as his hand moved over his cheek affectionately. “Yes I can do that.”

It was quiet against for a while as they laid with one another. Content with the decisions, until Sherlock spoke up again. “We’ll have to move in the morning. We should try to sleep.” A pale hand moved through the blond hair and kissed it softly. “I love you John.” The doctor let a small smile come to his face.

“I love you too Sherlock.”


	5. Chapter | Hello Darkness, My Old Friend

**Chapter IV | Hello Darkness, My Old Friend**

In the morning, Sherlock was the first to stir. Really it wasn’t much of a surprise. He had never been much of a sleeper. That would probably never change. His mind worked too much. At times Sherlock would have worse nightmares then John did. Vivid, filled with memories. Most of the time it was just Moriarty tormenting him in his head. John was fairly certain that was the main reason he didn’t sleep. Although it could have been different now with everything that was happening. John’s nightmares were different. There were still some from war every now and then. But it wasn’t as often as the other ones. He would dream about walkers getting them. Or taking Sherlock from him.

Looking down at the blond, Sherlock lightly moved his hand over the soft shaggy looking hair. It was so different then when he first met him. The military cut was gone. But they had been running for almost two years now. Sherlock kinda liked his hair liked this, something more to touch and play with. The dark brows furrowed a little as he leaned against his hand as he watched John start to move in his sleep. Mumbling and turning.

_“Don’t take him.”_

Sherlock leaned down and pressed his lips against his temple and then his cheek, moving a free hand to stroke over his fuzzy chin. Gentle waking usually worked with John so he didn’t get so riled up. He needed him as calm so he could actually function. So he wasn’t rash when they started moving.

_Panic makes you stupid._

_Fear makes you easy prey._

“John, wake up sweetie. We’re safe here.” He whispered into his ear, watching as the blue eyes started to open, blinking the sleep away from them. “Sherlock..? I was dreaming…” He muttered and moved closer to him, pressing against. He laced his arms around him, nuzzling into his chest. “I know you were. I was watching you sleep.” He said with a soft smile, carding his fingers through the soft pale hair. A chuckle came from the blond. “Creeper.” Sherlock grinned and shook his head, leaning down to kiss over his head again. “You like it, twat.” He teased back to him as he gently pet his fuzzy face. “Heh.” John yawned and moved to slowly stand up. He had to get the feeling back in his legs before moving too much. He swallowed and looked around for his boxers, tugging them on over his naked waist. A sigh came from the blond as he turned and looked out the window to see if the horde was still wandering around, but everything looked rather quiet. He leaned forward a little more to get a better view when he felt arms around his waist and lips against his shoulder. The affection made him smile. “How’s it look out there?” Sherlock asked in a soft voice. “Dead.” John mumbled back to him. “No birds or animals. No people, not even walkers. I think we can get far today if we walk fast and be careful. Stick to the woods instead of the road?” He said turning to look at him, he gained a smile from the brunette that made him quirk a brow. “What?” He asked as the detective laughed. “You. Your soldier is showing.” John rolled his eyes and smiled at him as he looked out the window again. “It tends to do that in desperate situations.”

After pulling on the rest of their clothes, John and Sherlock went through the small house to see if they could find any food. They were lucky and found some canned food. They ate quietly so they would have enough energy to travel all day. Which both knew that was the plan. After eating, the two grabbed what they had and opened the door. Sherlock when first, he normally insisted on it. He nodded to John when he knew the coast was clear. Sherlock reached his hand back to take John’s, and then they ran.

~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~  ~ .:. ~ .:. ~~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~  ~ .:. ~ .:. ~~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~

Running through the woods was a hell of a lot more work than running through the desert. John was doing better than Sherlock was. The brunette was use to running through the streets of London with ease. This, this was much harder for him to keep his footing. “Sherlock, look, there’s a ledge. We can’t run on it.” Sherlock tilted his head and looked down at the ledge, he was just about to ask why when John started to speak again. “From the rain, this soil is loose and really muddy. If we try to run we’ll fall. Fall like that won’t kill you but it’ll certainly hurt like hell.” Sherlock leaned over to look at the embankment. Well…Hill?

Was hill a better word?

Meh, he didn’t care.

It was a long ways down, at least a kilometer. Maybe a little less than that. But John was right, one slip and you’re going down. Wouldn’t kill you, but it would really, really hurt if you were unlucky. Lots of twigs, trees and rocks. At the bottom was a small pool and more rocks. A natural waterfall at the other end. They had to be careful. “John, let me go first. I’ll cut a path so it’s easier to get through.” John turned and looked at the path, and then back at Sherlock, giving a soft nod that it was okay. The brunette nodded and patted John’s should, pulling his machete out. Taking slow, cautious steps as he inched his way onto the trail, Sherlock swung the knife to cut away the branches and long grass away.

Another cautious step.

Sherlock was glad that the ground was staying firmly under his feet.  He swung a few more times and took a few more steps. He stopped and looked back at John with a smile. The brunette raised his arm to swing at a branch that he missed. One the down stroke he moved his foot the wrong way and the ground started to go. A gasp came from him as pale green eye went wide and he started to tumble down the hill with his machete in hand.

“Sherlock!”

He could hear John scream for him as he rolled, hitting rock after rock, trees and then there was a sharp pain that made him scream as he landed in the water. He moved his shaky hand to reach over to put pressure on the wound. His hand when cool metal heated by the blood that covered it.

_Shit._

_Machete went through his side._

“Sherlock!!” He could still hear John yelling. Slowly lifting his head out of the water he could see John running down as quickly as he could. “J-John…” He whimpered and let his head fall back into the water. He tried hard to keep his eyes open but nothing was working and slowly then went shut and everything went black.

_Hello darkness… my old friend._


	6. Chapter V | There are Things Worse than Dying

**Chapter V | There Are Worse Things than Dying**

“Sherlock!! Sherlock are you okay?! Sherlock!” John bolted down the hill into the water and ran to him. He fell down to his knees and looked over the sharp knife through his side. “S-Sherlock? Oh shit.” He panted and gently pulled the brunette head onto his lap as he turned on his side to look it over. “Shit… fuckity fuck.” Blood was starting to fill the water. He had to get him out of here. Somewhere safe just until he can get help. Get supplies to help him if he couldn’t find anyone. John took a deep breath and rifled through the bad on his back looking for a shirt or something that he could rip to keep the blade still until he could surgically remove it. Well as surgically as possible in this kind of situation. He took a deep breath and yanked out a shirt. John kept his blue eyes alert as he shredded the shirt. He gently worked the stripped around the wound and gently patted his face. He couldn’t carry Sherlock. He knew this already. Maybe before when everything was normal, but not now. Not when they had walkers to run from and his shoulder was so messed up. Running in the middle of the woods, up hills and through trees. He couldn’t carry him. So he head to wake him up. “Come on Sherly. Come on babe, ya gotta wake up. Come on, Sherlock!” He yelled and smacked him a little harder, gaining a loud gasp followed by a cry as all the pain came flying back through his body. “J-John…! It hurts…!” He whimpered and gripped the blond’s wet coat. “Shh…it’s okay. I-I gotta get you up the hill and some place safe until I can fix it. You’re going to have to walk with that in for now, otherwise you’ll bleed out and lead the walkers right to us. Sher…” He gently took his face in his hand and rubbed his cheeks. “Can you be strong and try to walk with me? I’m not gonna leave you. I’m going to help you, were going to get out of this alive.” Sherlock nodded to him and panted softly, wincing every now and then as the pain from the stab wound radiated through his side. “Yes, I can do it. I’m going to try.” He panted out, taking a deep breath and holding it as John swiftly but gently pulled him to his feet. “Got it?” He asked softly making sure he was okay before starting to walk.

This was the hard part.

Getting up this bloody hill and finding somewhere to stay before he passed out again. Slowly but surely they got up the hill. It seemed to take forever, at least to Sherlock it felt like forever. But everything seemed so slow. Maybe from the blood loss or just the fact that there was a machete was sticking out of his side.

After slipping once and having to grip on of the tree to stay on their feet, Sherlock and John made it to the top. John let the brunette sit for a moment as he gathered his thoughts and looked around the forest. No walkers.

_Not yet at least._

_Only a matter of time before they smell the blood and come running._

The doctor slowly walked away to check and see if he could find anywhere for them to stay, but as of yet there was nothing. Sherlock opened his eyes and started to panic when John was out of sight. He pulled himself up and whimpered. “John! Where are you?!” He called out and looking around. Hearing his name John ran back to him. “Sherlock, shh. I’m right here. It’s okay.” He frowned and pressed his lips against the blond’s. “Don’t leave my sight please… I’m nervous enough as it is right now, please.”

“Okay, okay… shh, it’s okay. We have to move.” John quietly soothed him, wrapping one arm under his both of his, while lacing his own arm around his neck. Off they started again. This was hard for John because Sherlock had been stabbed his left side, John’s bad shoulder was his left so a lot of the pressure was being pressed onto it, but he was a soldier. He would walk through the pain easily enough.

Light was starting to fade in the west, signaling to both of them they had to find a place and now. Emerging through the trees, John placed his feet onto the asphalt of the road. Gently he adjusted the brunette who was slowly starting to give int and pass out. “Come on Sher. We gotta get across the road, I can see a house from here. Sherlock.” He looked over at the detective who was slowly paling more and more. He had a horrible grey tone to his already paled skin.

_Don’t die._

_Dear god._

_Please don’t let him die._

_I need him._

_He’s my life line._

_My reason to fight._

_Don’t take him away again._

Sherlock stood up a little straighter and gently gripped John’s shirt to let him know that he was ready. So again they ran. Sherlock seemed to be moving a little better than before. His adrenaline was kicking in now. That was a good and bad thing. Good because it got him moving. Bad because he could be going into shock as soon as it wears off. John had to fix this and fast.

“John…”

The blond blinked and looked over at him as they started to climb the hill. “What is it?” He asked as they got to the door. No walkers, thank god. “I’m bleeding pretty badly. My shirt’s soaked through, I’m going to lead the walkers right to us…” He paned as John opened the door and got them inside, shutting the door and locking it. He looked around and gently laid him on a couch. “Don’t worry about it. I’m going to get that thing out of you and then see if I can fix it. We’ll be okay. You’re going to be okay.” He panted tugging off the bag from his back, before running into the kitchen. Everything was still here. Towels. Napkins, alcohol. He even found a first aid fit. Running back to the brunette he toss the things onto the floor. Shaky hands opening the med kid and only finding gauze.

_Shit._

_I can make it work, but he needs stitches._

“Okay Sherlock listen to me. I want you to bit down on this, and try to breath. This is going to hurt like hell, but I need to get the machete out of you.” He handed him a rolled up wash cloth and pressed it between his teeth. John took his hand and kissed it softly as he grabbed the handle of the knife. Blue eyes connecting with the green ones. “Ready, on three love?” He said taking a deep breath himself and looking down at the other man who nodded to him and gripped the couch with his blood stained pale hands. “One. Two… Three!” He yelled and pulled out the machete and let it clatter to the ground. Sherlock let out a muffled scream and arched off the couch as John quickly went to work pouring alcohol on his wounds to disinfect it and then pressed towels to it and wrapped the gauze around them to hold them in place. He took the wash cloth out of his mouth and kissed him softly. “You did good. Really good baby. Here, take a drink, I don’t have any pain killers so this will have to do.” Sherlock panted and nodded softly to him taking hold of the bottle. His hands were shaking so badly that he was hardly able to lift it and take a drink, but with a little help from John, he managed. “Good. There’s a la--…” John but himself off when he heard something. Something he hadn’t heard in a really long time. Not from somewhere else at lease.

_HOOOOOONNNNNNNKKKKKK!!_

_HOOOONNNKK HONKKK!!_

A car.

Both men looked towards the noise. John stood and pulled his machete out. The noise would bring in walkers. Or maybe they were trying to get attention he didn’t know. “Sherlock.” He looked down at the brunette who panted and nodded to him. “Go, I’ll stay here.” John nodded and leaned down to kiss him and pet his hair. “I love you. Five minutes. I’ll be back.” He nodded and kissed John again. “Hurry before they’re gone.” With a nod of agreement, John was out the door and running down the hill, taking out walkers as he ran. John skidded into the road and held his hands out to stop the drivers. “Please! We need help!” He pleaded. The car came to a stop and a man with grey hair got out.

“John?”

The blond tensed and looked over at him. He knew that face, and the other one who got out of the car.

_Greg and Mycroft._

“Holy fucking Christ, John!” Lestrade yelled and moved to wrap his arms around the other man. Mycroft stayed where he was. “John…Sherlock…?”

“He’s alive, barely. We heard the horn he’s up at the hou---…” John stopped when he looked up at the house and saw a swarm of walkers going towards it.

_No._

“Stay here! I’ll be back!” John took off running again back in the direction he came from.

_Hold on._

_Just five more minutes hold on._

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Sherlock leaned against the couch and held his wound as John bolted out. After three minutes and seven seconds he could hear walkers coming up to the house. They were following the trail of blood he had left. He knew this was going to happen. At four minutes the first one busted through the door that hadn’t been shut all the way. Sherlock gasped, scrambling to reach down for his machete. Quickly grabbing it the brunette stuck his food out and kept the creature back before swinging his knife into it’s head. He yanked out the machete with a grunt of effort and stood as the creatures just kept coming. Adrenaline was pumping through him like crazy. He slashed at them and watched them all fall. Then there were too many.

_Pain again._

_He got bit._

Sherlock let out a scream and spun around until everyone of them laid on the floor dead. He panted and pressed himself into the wall. His shoulder and neck had been ripped open.

_This is it._

_John…_

The machete clattered to the floor as he started to slide down the wall.

“John, I’m so sorry.”

~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~  ~ .:. ~ .:. ~~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~  ~ .:. ~ .:. ~~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~

“Sherlock!!”

John screamed for his friend as he bolted up the hill, taking off heads of any walkers until they were all dead. He stopped in front of the dark house and panted, feeling his eyes start to prickle as he started at the open door.

_Please._

Slowly he walked up to the door, and stepped in. “Sherlock?” He called and only heard growling.

_No…_

Slowly out of the darkness it approached him. _He_ approached him. Sherlock. Or at least what use to be Sherlock. “No… no, god no. Sherlock…” He whimpered and took a step back covering his mouth. “Not you… baby. Not you.” He could feel them now the hot tear running down his face as he looked into those pale lifeless eyes. This wasn’t his Sherlock. He was gone. He was dead. Really dead this time. The creature walked towards him and John shoved him back with a cry. “No! No, not you! You… I was gone five minutes Sherlock… f-five bloody minutes…” He started to choke up as the creature came at him again. Again he shoved him again as he started to sob. “You promised you’d never leave me again… you promised…” He whimpered out and sheathed the machete. He couldn’t put Sherlock down like that. There was no way. Slowly John pulled his gun, clicking off the safety and looking up at him. He aimed as images flashed through his head. Memories of everything they had ever done together. Words they had spoken.

_I love you John._

“I love you Sherlock…” He whispered as he pulled the trigger.

John lowered his arm as the body thudded to the floor. His hand moved over his eyes. He couldn’t control himself any more as he walked over to look at him, dropping to his knees. He gently wrapped his arms around the brunettes head and lifted it to his chest. John sobbed into the soft damp hair.

_I’m sorry._

_God Sherlock._

_I’m so bloody sorry._

_I love you._

_Don’t ever forget._

_I love you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I literally sobbed writing this chapter. Holy shit.


	7. Chapter VI | Whispered Sounds of Silence

**Chapter VI | Whispered Sounds of Silence**

_Light._

It started to fill the small house, but it wasn’t from the sunrise. It was still too early for sunrise. John was fairly certain it wasn’t even midnight yet. He didn’t move though. He was still holding the brunette in his arms, even when he heard car doors and his name being yelled.

“John!”

Lestrade was yelling for him. There was another car door that slammed. Mycroft was coming with him, probably didn’t want to stay in the car. Gently, the blond lowered Sherlock to the ground, getting up and standing. He looked up and wiped his face of the tears. “John! Joh--… Oh god… Mycroft w-wait...” It was too late and Sherlock’s brother walked in and frowned standing there staring at him. He could see his eyes start to water as he looked over his brother dead body. “He was turned… I did what he told me to Mycroft…” The older man shook his head and swallowed hard. “Let’s go then…” He said turning and looking towards the car. Lestrade looked over at John who shook his head. “I’m not just gonna leave him Mycroft. We have to bury him.” The older Holmes stopped and stayed where he was. “Burn the house down. That’s good enough.” John couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

_Good enough?_

“This is your little brother for Christ sake! I’m not just going to burn the house down and call it _good._ What’s wrong with you? We bury our loved ones!” He yelled getting worked up again. John started towards him, only to be stopped by Greg, with one hand pressed against his chest. Mycroft turned around and looked at him. “Caring is not an advantage John. I told Sherlock that once and now look where he is!” He yelled as Greg’s other hand pressed against his chest. “Stop it!” John went stoically cold looking just as he had when he punched the chief. Lestrade knew it was coming but was too slow to stop it when John pulled his fist back and hit Mycroft hard in the face. “Fuck you, you arse! Caring isn’t an advantage?! The only reason we’re still alive… the only reason I’m still alive is because he cared about me… and I for him. He was your fucking brother!” He yelled down at Mycroft who was on the floor looking away from him. “You’re going to help me bury him. Again. He doesn’t deserve to just be left of have the house burnt down. He was a good man. He kept me alive and saved my life over and over.” Hot tears were falling down his face again making his body shake as he broke down again. He could hardly stand the thought of burying Sherlock again. The first time hurt so much and now this time there was an actual body going into the ground. John could feel himself giving in moment by moment. “We have to bury him… I love him; I can’t just leave him here. I can’t Mycroft. I can’t because he’s really gone this time. He’s really gone…” He whimpered and let himself fall to the ground. Mycroft and Lestrade both looked at him then one another.  Greg put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “We’ll bury him John… it’s only right.” The brunette slowly pulled himself upwards from the ground. “Get him in the care Greg… I’ll get the shovel.” He muttered as the silvered haired man slowly lifted John up from the floor. The blond turned and looked back at Sherlock who was still lying on the ground. The blood dripping out of the wound that he caused. It made him want to fall again, but Greg kept him on his feet. He pulled him away as Mycroft moved with the shovel. John was silent as Lestrade helped him into the back of the car. The blond scooted in and let him shut the door before leaning his head against the window. He watched as the silvered haired father figure came out of the house with Sherlock’s body in his arms and wandering out towards the hill. Mycroft started digging and John felt it was the hardest thing in the world to watch at this moment. To watch them bury Sherlock again. His eyes were blurred from the tears that were streaming down his face.

_No more of this._

_No more._

_I’m tired of losing you._

_This time you can’t come back…_

He put his face in his hands and started to sob. It was silent thanks to the car muffling it. Sherlock was supposed to help him get through this. Live through this hell on earth. Make it bearable because he was there loving him, so everything wasn’t hell. But now it was just that.

_Hell._

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Greg slowly lowered the younger man’s body into to the grave. He moved some of the dark hair away from his face as he looked over him.

Sherlock.

He knew him when he was little. Helped him when he was on drugs. Worked with him. Grieved when he died. Rejoiced when he came back. Got angry at him, worried. Greg felt like a father to him. The father Sherlock lost when he was just a child. But now at least they found John. He had to think about him. Had to keep him safe for Sherlock.

_Survive this._

He looked up at Mycroft. The older brother started to shovel dirt into the grave as Greg stood. The silvered haired man moved to him and touched his shoulder, watching him throw dirt to cover his body.  Covering his face and his hair. “My… it’s okay to show emotion. To give in and grieve, love. No matter how much you want to hold it in, it’s not healthy.” He whispered as the other man as he pressed his forehead against the side of his temple. “Myc.” He said again in a soft voice as the brunette dropped the shovel and wrapped his arms around him. Greg was a little surprised but wrapped his arms around him. “Shh… I got you My… I got you.” He whispered and pressed his hand against the back of his head to press it to his shoulder as he silently cried. Mycroft’s legs went out from under him and he fell, pulling Greg down with him. He gripped his shirt as he cried harder, to the point of sobbing. He wanted his baby brother back. He wanted to hold him one more time, tell him he loved him more than anything. “Go to the car… we have to move soon. I’ll finish up. Need to check on John anyways.” Pulling back Mycroft looked at him and wiped his face, as Greg leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “Go on now.” He said lifting them both up so he could go to the car.

Mycroft walked to the car and got in the front seat leaning back against it and taking a deep breath to calm down. He turned to look at John who was laying on the seat and sleeping. Well passed out because he had been crying so hard. He reached back and gently pressed his hand against his head. “John…”

Greg would finish burying him. When he was done, he placed a make shift wooden cross in the dirt before moving away to the car. He got in and started it, watching as Mycroft turned back to the front. “We’re all he has now Greg.” He said in a soft voice as he moved to take his hand. “We have each other. That’s what we have to remember. To stay safe.” The brunette nodded as Greg backed down the hill.

_Gotta keep going for him._


	8. Chapter VII | Ghosts of You All Around Me

**Chapter VII | Ghosts of You All Around Me**

John slept in the back seat of the car as they drove along. Well at least Greg and Mycroft thought he was sleeping. Most of the time he was laying there, wide awake and staring at the gun in his hand. He couldn’t believe he killed Sherlock. Well he had to. It was what he wanted. Sherlock told him flat out he never wanted to be one of those things. John flailed him there. He didn’t shut the door all the way and they got in. Now Sherlock was gone for good.  He shut his eyes tightly and listened to Greg talk to Mycroft. The older Holmes was obviously upset by the whole situation, but much like Sherlock he was good at hiding his emotions.

_John._

The voice made John’s eyes fly open and sit up looking around the back seat of the dark car. Greg almost slammed on the break from the sudden action. Mycroft turned and looked at him, raising a brow. “What is it?” The blond looked around a little more and then over to the other man, covering his mouth as tears started welling in his eyes. “N-Nothing. I thought…” Mycroft’s face went soft when he saw the tears reaching back to grab his hand. “You’re okay. We’ve got a little farther to go until we stop for fuel. Lay back down, try to sleep some more.” He said pressing his hand to John’s shoulder, applying just enough pressure to will him back into his position of laying on the seat. The brunette reached down and grabbed the gun away from him before turning back into his seat. Mycroft looked over at Greg and frowned a little. The silver haired man didn’t look at him, he was concentrating on the road, not really feeling like slamming into any walkers with John so upset.

_“John.”_

A silent whimper made its way out of the doctor’s throat as he heard his name in that smooth baritone voice once again. He squeezed his eyes shut and started muttering to himself, quiet enough that the other two men didn’t hear him. “You aren’t here. You’re dead.”

_“So I am. You did what I wanted you to do though.”_

“Stop it. It should have never happened. It was my fault.” He whispered to the voice. The gasped softly as hands touched his face. He opened his eyes and looked over Sherlock’s transparent face. “I… no.” He whimpered and pulled back a little, pressing himself into the seat. “You’re not here.”

_“I’m always with you John.”_

“No, no, no, nononononono, no!” John grabbed his longish hair and screamed, closing his eyes tightly as he did. The car came to a jerking halt and suddenly there were hands on his face again, making him scream. “Get off me! You’re not here! You’re gone!”

“John, open your eyes!”

The blond heard Greg’s voice and did as he was told, opening his eyes and looking at the silver haired man. The blue eyes filled with tears and he whimpered, covering his face as he started to cry again. “Fucking hell, I saw him.” Greg shushed him and rubbed soothing circles over his tear soaked cheeks. “John…Shh, please… please calm down. Calm down. Sherlock’s gone, he’s not her--…”

“I fucking know he’s not here, you daft fool!” John yelled swatting at his hands to get them off of him. More tears. He hated this, being here without Sherlock. Everything was so empty without his constant chatter about something. God he missed him already. “I telling you I saw him. I heard him say my name. I’m losing it.” He whispered as his hands moved and grabbed his blond hair. “John, remember the first time you thought he was gone, you saw him then too. It’s part of how you cope.” The doctor scoffed and gave a pained laugh. “He wasn’t dead the first time. Part of me knew. Part of me knew… he was coming back. Suspected it. I believed in him and he came back. He’s _not_ coming back this time Greg! I shot him _myself_!” He yelled looking his face over. “He’s not coming back.” He whimpered and laid his head down. Greg frowned and pulled himself up to look at Mycroft who was sitting in the seat next to him. “What do we do?” He asked softly looking over at the older— the _only_ Holmes.

“Mycroft.”

He shook his head a little and looked up at him. “I don’t know Greg. We… We need to find somewhere to stay. Even if it’s just for a little while. He needs real rest and so do I.” He mumbled and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Greg took his hand and pulled it over to him, giving it a soft kiss. “Let’s stop for petrol, and then I think I know a place from there.” The brunette nodded to him and turned away looking out the window as they started to drive again.

John stayed silent until they stopped, trying to drowned out the sound of Sherlock’s voice whispering to him.

_John._

_John,_

_Please._

_Say something to me._

_Please._

_John._

_Joh—_

_Jo—_

_J—_

_…_

When the car came to a halt, the blond stirred from his sleep. He had missed when they stopped for petrol and now were somewhere else stopping for, well John didn’t know how long they were stopping for. He lifted his head from the seat and looked at the building they were parked in front of.

A cathedral.

“What are we doing here?” He asked in a soft voice rubbing his eyes a little as he looked out the windshield. The sun was starting to rise.  “We’re going to stay here until we can get our wits about us.” Mycroft said turning to look back at him a little. “Especially you. We need you in your right mind Doctor Watson, otherwise you’re of no use to us and a burden.” Greg shot the other man a look, but Mycroft ignored it and looked out the window. The silver haired man sighed and looked back at John, mouthing him a sorry to which the doctor only shook his head a little. Greg opened the door slow, looking around for walkers as he did. John did the same holding the machete in his hand. It looked clear. Quietly Mycroft went up to the door and turned the nob. “It’s locked. Give me a second.” He knelt down and took a pin out of his pocket. John stared and tilted his head to the side. “Mycroft what are you doing?”

“Picking the lock.”

“How do you know how to do that?”

He turned and looked at him. “Who do you think taught Sherlock everything he knew.” He said turning back to the door and hearing a click. He moved back and let Greg go ahead of him. The silver haired man pulled out his torch and looked inside. Everything felt like it was standing still for a long moment. Then he turned and smiled. “It’s all clear.” John finally allowed himself to exhale before following Lestrade in. Mycroft shut the door behind them. John looked around, feeling in his pocket for his own torch. “We should go upstairs and look for rooms. Sherlock and I always felt safer up a story.” Lestrade nodded and reached back taking Mycroft’s hand and following him up the stairs.

_John._

The blond stopped on the stairs and looked up, shining his torch in the direction of the voice. There he saw him. Darker, like a shadow. John had to bite his lip not to say his name aloud. The figure waved to him, beckoning him to follow him.

_This way John._

John moved up the stairs rather quickly. Quick for being as injured as he was. Greg called out to him and tried to follow. “Sherlock, Sherlock…” He whispered as he hit the landing and looked around the dark hall. The other two followed as he slowly moved down the hall. “John, John! Wait!” Greg called and the blond stopped turning to him. He took out his flash light and turned it on. “Need the torch. We don’t know what could be down there.” He said moving forward and pulling out the flash light to looked at the rooms as they passed them, well Greg and Mycroft did. John was too busy following the shadow Sherlock as he moved, waving to John to follow him. When the figure turned into the wall, John followed and found a door. He brought his hand to the knob and looked it over for a long moment. Did he dare open it? Taking a deep breath the blond turned the knob and pushed the creaky door. Everyone held their breath as the dark room was relieved. A shot of panic flying through them. John lifted his torch and shined it in. “Well I’ll be damned… look.” Mycroft and Greg lifted their lights and looked in. The room was stalked with canned foods. “It must have been a sanctuary or whatever. They probably got over run and took off or something.” Greg said moving in to inspect everything. “John, how did you know this was here?” The old Holmes asked. John turned and looked at him, then towards the door where he saw Sherlock again. Lighter this time.

“Had a little help from my friend.”


	9. Chapter VIII | They'll Never Take Me Alive

**Chapter VIII | They’ll Never Take Me Alive**

_November 9 th_

_It’s been seven months since Sherlock died._

_For the first three months, I could see him._

_He could talk to me, lure me away from the other’s. I don’t know if it was really him or not. I couldn’t really figure it out. Sometimes he would help me, like he did when we found the church. Helped me find where the food was._

_But then other times…_

_Well._

_He’s the reason…_

_Well I can’t blame him I guess… not really._

_It was my fault for following him around and thinking that he was real. That he had come back to me like before, even though I knew it wasn’t possible in the slightest._

_I mean,_

_How stupid was I to think that he would have been real? That he could come back to me after I shot him in the head…_

_But I wanted it._

_I wanted him._

_It was stupid and selfish and…_

_It got him killed._

_I…_

_I got him killed._

~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~  ~ .:. ~ .:. ~~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~  ~ .:. ~ .:. ~~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~

John opened his eyes as the sun shined through the stone glassless window. He groaned a little and covered his blue eyes with both hands as he tried to block it out of his eyes. Sitting up in from his spot on the floor and winced a little.

_Christ._

_I’m getting too old for this._

The blond looked around the empty room. Well his empty room. Mostly empty. A sigh came from him as he looked over and Sherlock waved good morning to him. Just like he did every morning. For the last three months. Sometimes John would acknowledge him, other times he would ignore him. Depending how he slept usually. If he had nightmares all night, usually he would ignore Sherlock. But today he smiled and waved at him lightly. He pulled himself up from the floor and sighed moving over to the window to look out at the snow covered ground below. It seemed liked a lot of the walkers were dying off from the cold, other’s seemed to be finding food somewhere. He didn’t know where or how. Probably drifters or people too dumb to get off the road.

_“It’s going to be nice today. Cold tonight though, so make sure you have a fire.”_

“How do you know this Sherlock?” He asked turning and looking over at the ghost. John didn’t bother being quiet or not talking a loud. Mycroft and Greg were use to him talking to nothing. The transparent brunette chuckled and shook his head a little at him.

_“I’m still me John. I can tell by clouds and weather patterns.”_

“Oh, right.” He said and looking away from him again and back out the window at the creatures below. John felt hands wrap around his waist and he hummed softly.  Even though he knew he wasn’t real, the contact was welcomed. Comforting. “Sherlock…  I miss you. I’m sorry. Really sorry for everything that happened. That I didn’t save you.” He leaned back into the figure a little and closed his eyes tightly. There was silence for a long time until he finally spoke.

_“Want to make it up to me? Be with me?”_

John blinked a little and pulled away to look at him. What was he asking? Sherlock had never asked him something like this before. “Are you asking me to kill myself?” He said, staring at the pale green eyes of the ghost. “Is that what you’re asking me to do?”

_“Well, more sacrifice yourself John. You miss me yes? You want to be with me? So why not?”_

Swallowing hard the blond, quirked a brow at him. “Sherlock…” He frowned a little and looked away rubbing his arm. “Uh…what um…” He stammered over his words as Sherlock gave him a curious look.

_“John?”_

Blue eyes looked up at him and he gave Sherlock a hard look. “What do you want me to do?” He said watching the being in front of him grin. It didn’t look like the normal one he usually got but, this wasn’t a usual request either.

_“Simple really. Walk out that front door and let the walkers take you.”_

“Let the walkers… take me?” He asked tilting his head to the side with frown.

_Well, being with him._

_That’s dying._

_Because Sherlock was dead._

The being nodded to him in confirmation. John shifted uncomfortable in his spot. He didn’t know what to think about all of this. Did he really want to do this? Listen to him and walk outside and be walker bait. “I…”

_“You love me don’t you John? You want to do with me?”_

He nodded and covered his mouth, leaning against the wall. He turned and looked out the window at the walkers, lumbering around the front yard. Again arms wrapped around him and held him there.

_“Do it John. Do it to be with me. To get out of this dark hateful world. You know you want to John. Do it.”_

John bit his lips hard and moved his hand down to the ones that held him there. “Sherlock. I do. I want to be with you but… just walk out there? I don’t want to be one of those things.” He said looking over at him and tilting his head a little. He didn’t turn out of the hold though. He wanted nothing more to stay in that hold forever. But what kind of relationship was this? With a ghost. A spirit who wasn’t really real. Who wasn’t there. He nodded to him and looked back out.

_“Bring your gun.”_

He nodded and this time he did pull away from him. He walked over and pulled out his gun shoving it into his pocket. He took a deep breath and pulled on his coat. Sherlock was gone when he turned around. Slowly the blond opened the door to his room and looked around, the hall was empty. He would wait till dark to go out. They were more active at night.

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Night fall.

It was late, really late. He wanted to make sure that Greg and Mycroft were sleeping before he didn’t this. He didn’t want their lives taken because of this. The blond turned to look at Sherlock who was still standing behind him. “You’re sure about this? That I can be with you?” The being nodded but didn’t say anything just waving to the door in a ‘Go’ motion. The doctor took a deep breath as he unlocked the door and moved to take hold of the handle.

_Well why not really?_

_What did he have left?_

The door opened with a very noisy creak. John cursed under his breath and looked up the stairs to make sure no one was coming. The church was quiet and John slipped out the door closing it behind in with another creak. He couldn’t believe he was really doing this. Taking a deep breath the blond wandered away into the building and let his blue eyes watch the walkers around him. John turned to see where Sherlock was. He had to ask him what he wanted him to do. But the brunette spirit was nowhere to be seen. “Sherlock?” He called out loud and immediately regretted it when the sound of hungry walkers started to make their way towards him. “Shit… Shit…” He mumbled as he started to back up, the growling was so loud. Suddenly there were hands on his shoulder and he let out a cry and looked over at him. “Shit! Greg?!” The silver haired man gave him a strange look, holding the gun out to fire at a coming walker. “What the bloody hell are you doing John?!” He scowled and grabbed his arm shoving him inside to Mycroft.

But the gun fire.

That was a bad idea.

Now there were walkers all over.

Greg was just trying to slide between the door when they grabbed him, yanking him back. “No, no Greg!” Mycroft reached out and grabbed his hand. Greg gave a sympathetic look and then cried out as he was bit, he let go of his hand falling back into the walkers. “I’m sorry My.” He mouthed to them as John wrapped his arms around Mycroft to tug him back into the church. Everything went still for a moment as Greg smirked. “They’ll never take me alive!” He yelled and stuck the gun into his mouth.

**_BANG!_ **

The sound was in sync with the large door to the church slamming. John had to pull Mycroft up the stair and away from the door. Too many shots had been fired.

~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~  ~ .:. ~ .:. ~~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~ .:. ~  ~ .:. ~ .:. ~~ .:. ~ .:. ~ ~ .:. ~

_So you see._

_I got Greg killed._

_And I never saw Sherlock again._

_I wasn’t him anyways._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author Note: I must apologize for the long wait on this chapter. I’ve been having health problems and back problems. Next one will not take as long. I also want to clarify that the “Sherlock” John was seeing was a hallucination. Like the voices in someone’s head that forces them to kill other people.


	10. Chapter IX | Giving Up and Opting Out

**Chapter IX | Giving in and Opting Out**

_Jan. 6 th_

_Dear Diary,_

_Today’s Sherlock’s 37 th birthday._

_Happy birthday._

_I haven’t seen Mycroft in days now. When Greg died, at first he was angry at me. Gave me a black eye. I was a little surprised he could hit that hard. But after a little while he told me it wasn’t my fault. I’m still blaming myself for it._

_I got Sherlock killed._

_Then I got Greg killed._

_I think Mycroft hates me. I don’t blame him for it. I hate me. I hate this life. It’s just… lonely._

_I’ve tried checking on him, but every time I knock he doesn’t answer. The door’s locked so I can’t get in. I don’t know what’s going to happen. I have to try to talk to him. I have to._

_-John_

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John sat in the kitchen and listened to the wind howl outside. The walkers had been quiet. More of them dropped every day from the cold and lack of food. Their food was holding out well, but that could be because neither one felt like eating. John sighed and pushed his food around on the plate as he stared at it. He knew he needed to eat it. There was no way he would have enough energy to get up the stairs again if he didn’t eat it and he couldn’t waste it. No way. So he forced it down, drinking some of his water with it. He looked over at the window when he heard a soft patter. Rain and snow mix.

Sleet.

Got he was glad that they didn’t have to drive in this shit. He looked over and laid his head down against the table. The windows were boarded up, but he could still hear the walkers every now and then tapping against them. Never fail it made his body shudder.

A slight tremble of fear.

You would think after almost three years it would go away. But the blond wasn’t sure if that was something that would ever go away. Not until the walkers were gone. But would they ever be gone? They all carried this… virus or whatever it was. Unless they could come up with a vaccine or something, they would never be able to fight it. The human race would die out, and everything would go back to nature.

John sighed and stood up from the table, taking his plate with him. He used some of his water and washed it off before letting out a sigh. The former doctor frowned and dug in his pocket for his wallet. Pulling it out, he opened it and looked over the photo there. He ran his calloused fingers over the image of Sherlock. His eyes started to sting again as he stared at it more. He covered his eyes with the back of his eyes and rubbed them a little, trying hard to hold back a sob.

**_CRRAASSSH!_ **

**_SHHHAATTTEERRR!!!_ **

John jerked at the loud noises from upstairs. He turned and pushed the photo back in to his wallet and moved out of the kitchen as he shoved it back into his pocket. He started to run, stopping at the corner of the stairs and looking up. “Mycroft?!” He called, standing still for a moment before walking a little farther. He stood in front of the bottom of the long stair case. “Mycroft are you okay?! Please talk to me!” He yelled up the stairs and waited for a response. John fidgeted in his spot when no noise came again from the room at the top of the stair. “My?” He asked in a soft voice as he gripped the banister and started to walk up towards the landing. His knuckles were white he was holding it so tightly. Heart beating out of his chest.

_What’s going on?_

_Why isn’t he answering me?_

_God._

_Don’t let him be hurting himself._

“Mycroft! Answer me you prick! I don’t care how much you hate me! Answer me now!” He yelled as he started to walk up the stairs a little faster.

_Shit, shit, shit._

**_Click._ **

John stopped dead in his tracks when the door unlocked. Blue eye stayed locked on the top of the stairs as he listened to the soft, sock muffled footfalls. Mycroft appeared at the top of the stairs. His face was fuzzy and there were dark bags under his eyes. He stared down at John with a cold look that made the blond shiver. “Are you okay?” He asked looking up at him, letting go of the banner and standing there tensely. “I heard crashes, and something breaking.” The brunette lifted his hand to show John. “I was angry. Broke one of the windows.” He said examining the blood nonchalantly. As if it was nothing.

As if he literally felt nothing.

“W-Why were you angry My?” He questioned in a shrink tone.

“Stop! Calling me… My. Only Greg and Sherlock were allowed to call me that damn it!” He yelled, making John want to flinch, but the soldier in him made him just stare. “I’m sorry, Mycroft. I didn’t think it was a big dea--…”

“Well it is! You got them both killed John! Both of them! I trusted you, to watch my little brother, to keep him safe. And instead you got him turned into one of those… things, and had to put him down like a lame dog!” He yelled again, John could hear his voice cracking. Even in the dim light, John could see tears starting to rise in his eyes. “That’s what he told me to do.” The blond tried to keep his voice steady as he was confronted. He had no idea how badly it hurt to pull that trigger. To know, the person he loved more than anything was dead by his hands. He was a soldier. He was supposed to be trained to be good in these situations. But so far all he was good at was getting people he loved killed. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry about everything that happened with him. With Greg. I hate having to live with that guilt on me, but I accept it and I keep going because that’s what they fucking wanted!” He yelled back at him but soon recoiled from himself and took a deep breath. John closed his eyes and sighed. A clicking noise made him open them and slowly lift his head. Mycroft stood at the edge of the step and shook his head as he stared down at John. “Oh shut up. Just shut the hell up! I’m glad you have to live with it. Personally I hope you live a long fucking time with it.” He cock back the hammer and tilted his head to the side a little. “On the other hand.”

_This is crazy._

_This is fucking crazy!_

_This isn’t Mycroft!_

_It isn’t…_

John lifted his hands and shook his head a little. “No, Mycroft, stop and think for a second. Please. Would Greg want you to do this? To kill me? Would Sherlock want that?” He asked in the steady tone. “I don’t give a fuck what they would have wanted! They’re dead! Because of you. So I’m doing, what I want.” He said in an unfeeling tone and pulled the trigger. The bullet ripped through John’s thigh and he screamed, leaning down to hold it. His hand was already soaking with blood. He looked up and Mycroft pulled back the hammer again with a another click. “Mycroft…” John whispered his name. All the memories flashed through his mind. All of Sherlock and all of Greg. Every Christmas, crime scene, abduction. As funny as it sounded in his head.  He remember being comforted by both when Sherlock faked his death.

And now.

**_BANG!_ **

The bullet ripped through his chest this time, making him scream and take a step back. It sent the blond toppling down the stairs. Rolling foot over head as he fell until landing at the bottom with a groan. John looked up at the figure at the top of the stairs. His vision was blurring in and out so much he could hardly tell who he was. Mycroft raised the gun and cocked back the hammer. He looked down at John who was trying to sit up. “No, no, Mycroft don’t!”

**_Bang._ **

The blond let out a cry and laid back in the dust as he bled from the gunshot wounds. Mumbling over and over. “I’m sorry. God I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Fuck…” He turned on his side the best he could, sobbing for a while before he passed out.

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_The world we live in now…_

_It changes even the most sane of people._

_Maybe it’s better to be dead then try to live when everyone else around you is dead._

_Dying._

_Killing themselves._

_Maybe it’s better._

_Just maybe._


	11. Chapter X | Darkness

**Chapter X | Darkness**

John groaned as he tried to move. He was cold. Freezing and so weak he could hardly sit up. His chest hurt, so did his leg. He could hear the walkers slamming at the doors and windows. He felt a string of panic rise in him as he pulled himself up and grabbed the railing to stand. He gasped as he tried to catch his breath. John didn’t know what hurt more, his chest, leg or head. A window smashed nearby and the doctor started to scramble up the stairs, falling once onto his good knee.

_Wait._

_Just wait one second John._

He needed a moment to compose himself. To get the pain under control. He had to think of what he needed to do at this moment.

He had been shot.

Twice.

By Mycroft no les—

_Mycroft._

John frowned as he looked up the stairs and saw a dark form laying there motionless. “Oh shit.” He whispered o himself. Everything was starting to come back to him now a he slowly ascended the stairs. At the top of the landing the oldest Holmes was lying on the floor with the gun still in his hand. At least he shot himself in the right place so he didn’t come back as a walker. John would have been dead if he did that. He frowned a little at himself. That was a horrible thing to think about. He cursed softly at himself as he hit the landing and moved as far around Mycroft’s body as he could. He was dead. Defiantly dead. But the sound of the walker’s slamming on the windows and doors at the smell of blood were making him nervous. Locking himself in his room, John limped to his make shift bed and sat down. He ripped open his pants where he had been shot ad grimaced. “Shit…” John had to figure out a way to get the bullet out of his leg and his chest. But he didn’t know how just yet. He would probably have to dig it out with a knife. He whined and leaned against the wall. “I wish you were here to help me Sher…” He mumbled to himself as he moved over to the fire and got it roaring again.

_Knife?_

_Knife?_

_Where did I put it?_

He stood up and limped over to his bag, looking through for his knife until he found the army knife. “Gotcha.” He smiled a little as he opened the blade. There was still a lot of noise coming from outside. John decided to be sure they weren’t having luck busting their way through the giant oak doors or the double boarded windows. Leaning out the window John looked around at the surroundings. There were about ten walkers banging against the doors and windows. They weren’t getting in. He could tell just by looking at them.

Malnourished.

Weak.

Freezing.

John felt himself scoff a little and limp back to the fire. Grabbing a bottle from behind the panel. After they got there and John started seeing things, Greg wouldn’t give him any liquor. But they didn’t mean he didn’t have it. He was good at hiding it and some nights when his nightmares wouldn’t stop he drank until he passed out and they went away. Dreams were haunting.

Afghanistan.

Sherlock.

Greg.

And now Mycroft.

He was screaming most nights, which attracted more walkers. There was more than one night that Mycroft punched him. He understood why. This…

This world that they lived in.

It was hard and full of death.

It wasn’t really living.

John shook his head and opened the bottle, lifting it to his lips to take a swig, before pouring some on the wound in his leg. It made him hiss loudly. John held out his shaking hand to heat the knife and disinfect it.

_Fuck, this is going to hurt like hell._

He pulled his shirt collar into his mouth and bit down. Counting to three he pressed the knife into his leg to dig out the bullet with a muffled scream. But then the ear splitting noise of the bullet hitting the floor with a clunk. John was panting heavily as he grabbed the bottle and poured the vodka onto his wound. It almost made his body convulse it hurt so bad, but biting down on his shirt made it a little better.

After John managed to get his breath back he put the knife over the fire again, waiting for it to heat up once again. He lifted the bottle with his free hand and took another long swig. He pulled the knife from the fire again and poised himself. Closing his blue eyes the blond swallowed hard. “Fuck.” He hissed as he pulled his shirt up and balled it into his mouth. The hot blade burned into his skin and this time he screamed. He couldn’t help it. He didn’t have anyone there to old his hand, or to help him through it. He was alone.

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After what felt like an eternity, the bullet fell to the floor with a soft clink. John thudded onto his side and gasped for air. The blond closed his eyes tightly and whimpered as his body literally shook from the shock of the hot blade that had just got done digging painfully into his chest. Lying there on the floor, John stared at the ceiling as the room spun around in circles. He didn’t like it. Well who really did, but it was making his stomach spin around in circles with it. So, he shut his eyes. Even though there was a chance for him to go into shock, he didn’t feel like vomiting onto the cold floor. Having to deal with the scent of death just outside was enough for him.

But as much as he tried, after his tired eyes closed, his body gave into darkness and he was lost to exhaustion.

His dreams were like reoccurring nightmares. First the war, then this, then losing Sherlock, then Greg and now Mycroft. And suddenly there was just nothingness. He didn’t like it. It was probably the worst thing. Being alone and having things that went bump in the night.

_This is hell._

The blond jerked and cried out as he rolled onto his side holding the wound on his chest. God it hurt so much. Trying to take a deep breath John pushed himself up from the bloodied floor. The sun was shining through the glass-less window. Bright, but it was still cold.

Managing to regain himself a little, John wrapped both wounds and limped out into the hall, gagging at the sight of the body laying there. It was worse now that the sun was shining to show the extent of the damage around him. It was gruesome. Not as bad as seeing Sherlock splattered on the pavement but…

John shuddered and kept his eyes away from the body as he limped over to the other room. Pulling the blanket and the sheet off the bed, he limped back out and quickly covered him. “I’m sorry, but you have to stay here… just for a little while. Until I’m healed. Until the walkers die off or move on. I’m sorry.” He muttered backing up and going back into his own room. He locked the door and hooked a chair under the know just in case. The blond grabbed the bottle of vodka and his diary that he had been keeping. Taking a long swig he opened the book and tapped his pen.

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_Jan, 7 th_

_Mycroft’s dead._

_And I’m alone in the dark._

_-JW_


	12. Chapter XI | The Last Man

**Chapter XI | The Last Man**

_Anyone;_

_My name is John Hamish Watson._

_And I’m the last man._

_I was a doctor, before all this started. All the dead getting up and walking around. Before that I was a solider. Maybe that’s why I’m alive now. The will to survive, doesn’t really die. It’s drilled into you. So. Now that everyone else is dead, I’m still alive._

_There are a lot of times I wished I was dead._

_After Molly and Mrs. Hudson died._

_After Anderson and Sally._

_Especially after Sherlock._

_Then Greg._

_And lastly Mycroft._

_I found myself thinking “Oh, if only he would have aimed a little better.”_

_But he didn’t._

_I sat here all winter, boarded up in this church. Watching as the walkers slowly died off. Now most of them are gone. I was actually able to bury Mycroft, mark his grave. I miss him. I think I almost went mad when I had to spend the winter alone. Those damned things banging on the doors and windows for weeks, until the smell of blood faded. I was thanking whatever being there is up there when the clawing stopped. If there even is something up there. After everything I’ve seen, I really don’t know any more. I grew up protestant. Prayed when I was sure I was dying in war. Prayed for Sherlock to come back when I thought he was dead. I got my miracle that time. But maybe you only get one. I’m not sure. But I know somewhere in there it says “I will not forsake you.” I feel a little forsake._

_Scratch that, I feel a lot forsaken._

_I haven’t seen anyone in months. And I don’t know if anyone is left. I might be the last man on earth for all I know. I’m actually kinda assuming I am._

_Well enough of that then._

_If anyone finds this, I’m letting you know what happened._

_On November 5 th 2013 the dead started to wake up and attack the living. We didn’t know what was happening but we ran. Headed out of the cities, going north as far as we could. I started out with seven other people. They’re all dead. Stolen from us, or offed themselves. The one thing you need to know, is that we all have it. You don’t have to be bit to change, you just have to die._

_Die and you change._

_The only way to kill them is a bullet to the brain._

_Right now it’s June 14 th 2015, almost all of them are dead from the winter. But I’m still heading north. Going to stop in Aberdeen and see if I can find a ship, maybe sale to America to see how people are faring there. If it’s any better than here. _

_Or worse._

_If I can’t find a boat, I’m heading to Skye Island. Or somewhere at the tip top of Scotland. I’m only taking what food I can carry in my car. Really I’m surprise it still runs but it does. I hope there are more of you. Really I do._

_I don’t want to be the last man._

_So, if you find this, good luck._

_Sincerely,_

_John Hamish Watson_

John left the note pinned to the door where the food was, make-shift cane in his hand as he turned and headed down the stairs. He shut the large church doors behind him. He had written on large piece of cardboard, “FOOD INSIDE” so anyone lucky enough to stumble upon it would know that there was food and shelter to be had there. And that they would be safe for a while. The blond sighed a little and looked up at the large church. “Did us well you did. Someone else’s turn huh?” He said gently patting the large wooden doors before pulling away and hobbling to the car and climbing in. He was thankful for the lack of walkers. He didn’t know if they had all died off or if they had just migrated somewhere else. Either or. Maybe both. He didn’t know. He really didn’t care. John would die a happy man if he never had to see one of those damned things again. Leaning forward the blond started the car, listening to the engine sputter before roaring to life. Silently John prayed he could make it to Aberdeen in this. He’d switch cars when he got there.

So off he went.

The last man on earth.

In search of other.

Surviving all of this insanity.

The dead praying on the living.

John did this all because he knew he was making him proud by surviving. Sherlock would be pleased with him for the most part. He was always just happy that he was alive. John missed him. His smile, laugh, even the rude comments. But he was sure there were others. Positive.

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John drove on, for hours. Hours that turned to into days. Days into weeks.

But one day on the side of the road John stopped. He could have sworn he saw something moving down in the trees. Something that seemed like it was hiding. Slowly walking down the blond stopped when there was a shift. “Hello? I promise I don’t hurt you, I can help you. Come on out then.” He coaxed in a very soft tone as he watched the figure shift. Little dark curls and blue eyes peeked out at him from behind the tree.

_A child?!_

John froze as he looked over the dirty little boy. “It’s okay… What’s your name? How old are you lamb?” He asked as he knelt down and held out his hand, his own blue eyes watching him and the surrounding area for anything. “I-Ian… I’m five.” The tiny boy muttered as he slowly walked out and over to him. He looked over his face and hesitated before taking John’s hand. “Well… I’m John. Are you hungry Ian? I have food and water. I’m heading north, do you have parents or…?” He didn’t finish his sentence as the little boy pressed himself into his chest and wrapped his tiny fragile arms around his neck. John could feel his shoulders start to shake, tears dampening his shoulder, so as gently as he could he wrapped his arms around the boy and lifted him. “Okay, okay. Shh… come on. You can come with me. I’m all alone too.” He muttered as he carried him up to the car, rocking him lightly.

Ian stayed on his shoulder a little longer, clinging to him, trying to convince himself that John was real. After ten minutes, John gently placed him in the seat with a bottle of water and a sandwich. “Eat slow.” He nodded to him as John took off. It was silent for a while before Ian spoke again. “Are you an angel John?” The blond blinked and looked over at him. “Why do you ask that?” He said looking back at the room. “B-Because before my mummy died, she said an angel would take care of me… Are you an angel? Since your taking care of me? Since you saved me?” He asked making John smiled.

“I think you’re the one who saved me Ian. I’ve been the last man for too long. It’s nice to have someone else again.”

 

**The End**


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